


On The Rocks

by Bandtrees



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Autistic Mary Christiansen, Divorce, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post-Divorce, Slow Burn, its not a major part of the story but it's a headcanon that's in there, joseph's bf is a separate person from canon dadsona, meet skye! hes a wreck, other chars cameo but dont show up enough to be like. tagged, some mary stuff is inspired by whinemcm on tumblr! a VERY good mary rper, val is a nerd. she’s well dressed but she’s a nerd, very full of fluff tropes and I should apologize but i’m not going to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-25 09:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20721602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandtrees/pseuds/Bandtrees
Summary: Following his extramarital relationship with a recent move-in to Maple Bay, Joseph and Mary have finally cut the knot for good. It was a long time coming, and it feels as if a weight has been lifted in the small town. Joseph’s happy, free to live his truth with the man he loves, but things aren’t so simple for the former Christiansen matriarch, especially not after she finds herself suddenly having to question the nature of her friendship with Robert.Robert/Mary post-divorce slow burn.





	1. On The Rocks

Robert isn’t the type to initiate conversation, much less conversation at a social gathering, and even _ much _ less conversation at the graduation party of the daughter of a man he doesn’t really know, but Mary’s one of the few people he’ll make that exception for. He catches her lingering by a snack table, glowering across the yard at something with her arms crossed over her chest, gone to the rest of the party. 

Following her line of sight, Robert understands her anger. Stood underneath the tree of the-dad-he-can’t-quite-remember-the-name-of is Joseph, talking animatedly to another man. Skye Adams, he was, a recent move-in to Maple Bay that seemed to catch Joseph’s heart in an instant. Robert heard on the grapevine the man’s reputation as a... casanova, to put things lightly. An immature and impulsive person, known for rushing into things without a care in the world as to what other people thought.

Robert saw the two were happy, and that should’ve been all that mattered, but the forever bitter part of him couldn’t help but think the two of them were perfect for each other in the worst way possible. It’d have to take a huge asshole to try and break up a marriage like that, miserable as it may have been, and Robert hadn’t forgotten the night of the divorce. Mary drinking herself into alcohol poisoning in her stress and grief. He feared for her life that night, head full of flashbacks to Marilyn. Ever since then, his blood boiled worse than usual seeing Joseph’s face, and as far as he was concerned, the youth minister’s boy toy was just as guilty.

He looks back to Mary, who hasn’t noticed him yet. He worries she might pop something glaring like that, as admittedly infuriating as Joseph’s display of affection is, and looks around for an immediate remedy. There isn’t one, but there _ are _ still pieces of ice cream cake lying around. He leans over to grab a paper plate and scoops some together, nudging Mary’s side with it to get her attention. 

“Hey.”

The brunette’s harsh gaze flickers to the intrusion, but her expression softens slightly when she sees him. (A soft expression not being much for Mary. She always looked unimpressed. So did he, really.). Her arms don’t move, prompting him to nudge her with the plate again, this time a little harder.

“Cake.”

She still doesn’t move, and he’s beginning to think she just wants to see him continue to offer. He plays along, if only because the awkward display would make her laugh. He roughly jabs her with the paper plate. 

“For you.”

Nothing, still. He all but smushes the plate into her. 

“It’s cake, for you—”

She suddenly snorts in amusement, uncrossing her arms to take the plate. “Really wanted to see how long that’d go but couldn’t risk getting icing on me.” She pushes the cake around with her fork, not eating any. She gestures to Joseph and Skye with it, the blonde now laughing loudly at something the taller man said. He takes Skye’s hand in his, and he flushes. 

It honestly reminds Robert of a pair of lovesick teenagers — the maturity of the whole thing was pretty similar. Letting some flirty sleaze sweep you off your feet and going behind your wife’s back to lie about a breakup and fuck him on a yacht felt like the kind of logic Robert would find from someone Val’s (or hell, even _ Amanda’s _) age, not a grown father of four.

“You get a load of this freakshow?” Mary asks, thankfully taking her watchful eye off the couple in favor of crushing her cake beneath her fork. 

She gets an unimpressed grunt in response as Robert leans against the table. There were probably better people to watch at this party than those two, but if Mary and Robert were good for anything, it was judging people together. “How long you givin’ ‘em?” 

“Hm.” The other stuffs a forkful of cake into her mouth in thought. With her mouth still full, she points at Skye — “gets a dating app,” — and then at Joseph — “gets mad he gets a dating app.”

Robert isn’t sure where Mary gets those vibes from but he can’t say she’s wrong.

“They fight and Skye’s banished to a hotel. Two months.” 

“Two months? You’re not giving them a lot of credit.” 

“They don’t deserve it.”

Well, he can’t argue with that. He can feel the tension in the air, jokes aside, and gets the feeling that being here is only heightening Mary’s stress level. There’s a silence between the two, though the idle chatter of the adults and playtime of the kids still gives Robert something to listen to. Mary and Joseph’s twins are chasing Hugo’s kid with a stick, which is a really funny sight. The time he taught them how to knife fight (against Joseph’s wishes) seems to have paid off. 

He catches the repetitive noise of Mary stabbing her paper plate with a fork, likely pretending it’s her ex-husband, and decides it’s probably best to evacuate the premises before she remembers the actual knife in Robert’s jacket. 

“You wanna blow this joint?”

He’s hesitant to ask at first, not wanting to make her feel obligated to do so, but decides it’s best the idea that she doesn’t have to stick around for this at least be in her head. She’s quiet, glancing from her cake, to Joseph, then to Robert, before crumpling her half-eaten cake into its paper plate and dumping it into the nearest trash can.

“Shitty party anyway.”

  


——

  


He’s starting to rethink calling Joseph and Skye so immature. Not for anything they do, oh no, just because Robert’s currently outing himself as a massive hypocrite by bringing Mary to something so quintessentially “cheesy teen date”: a karaoke bar. Then again, the places he and Mary went when they needed cheering up were all that — the movie theater, that greasy pizza place in the alley, the _ Coffee Spoon _... maybe he’s just a dumb teenager at heart. It wouldn’t surprise him.

Ever since the alcohol poisoning incident, he’s been careful to watch Mary’s intake, though he knew not even God could keep that woman from her wine. He was the same, really, so it felt odd to be so wary, but he really didn’t want to risk anything with her. 

At the very least, she seems content enough with people-watching. He’s thankful for that, both because he worries about her health and because he’s not sure his soul could stand to actually sing up on stage with her. They sang, sure, but belting What’s Up so off-tune and loudly it woke up Mary’s children was different from what was essentially a concert for a bunch of drunk strangers. 

“So the dude’s wife found out she was having an affair with the pastor, right?” 

Robert’s learned over the years that Mary has no shortage of weird stories about the town she grew up in. He’s torn his attention from the teenage couple screeching a rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun to her as she gestures vaguely over her cocktail.

“One Sunday, just a normal Sunday, picture little eleven year-old Mary Weimann and her good Christian family at church as that same guy gives a sermon, when some dude we don’t know just barges in screaming about how this preacher can’t pretend to be a man of God and stuff and _ tackles him and starts beating the shit out of him_.”

Her glazed eyes — she’s a little buzzed already, clearly — widen as she punches the table for emphasis. She’s a very animated storyteller, as well as a very animated drunk, Robert’s learned. At least she wasn’t punching him.

“The dude’s wife’s up there trying to yank him off while we’re all screaming and I’m finally finding a reason to go to church when the _ pastor’s _ wife gets in on this and she clocks the other woman with a communion tray and knocks her out cold.” 

A baffled “Holy shit?” is honestly all Robert can muster. 

“Yeah, I know, right?” She pauses to continue drinking, letting out a muffled “Pastor Dalvin was an absolute maniac” from behind the glass. 

“His wife sounds like the real hero.” Robert scoffs, with a mock shake of his head. “History, always erasing women’s accomplishments.”

After an amused snort from Mary, the table falls silent as the two turn their attention back to the activity in the bar. The pair of Youths is just finishing their song, there’s a couple of guys leading a drunken old man out of a back room, a massive gaggle of people has just poured in... the bright and colorful lights and loud, slightly distorted music from the speakers onstage is a little overwhelming. 

Glancing back to Mary, he notices one of her hands pressed to her ear as she’s sunk into her chair, drumming her fingers along the table with a scrunched up face. She was a party person, and perhaps one of the best Robert knew, but he was also acutely aware she didn’t take well to bright lights and noise under stress. The wound in her personal life was one alcohol and a night out couldn’t fix, and he starts to reconsider his choice of comfort activity. 

It’s an intimate gesture, a contrast to their otherwise loose and fun relationship, but never one for words of comfort, Robert reaches across the table to lightly place his own hand over hers. “Weimann?” He asks, in hopes of bringing her back to reality a little.

Mary glances up, her stressed expression fading into a puzzled one, arching her eyebrow. She drops the hand by her ear, but doesn’t move the one Robert’s is over. 

“Just didn’t know your maiden name.”

“Well, you should get used to hearing it.” She states, bitterly, reaching for her cocktail again and stopping upon finding it drained. “Mary Weimann.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Damn injury attorney is what it sounds like.”

Robert shrugs. “Could be Dickens.”

“If my last name was Dickens, you think I’d be here? I’d be living it up as a porn star — the Wine MILF of everyone’s dreams. Don’t be so naïve.” 

There’s a beat, before she seems to have a realization.

“...wait, Mary Dickens was an author.”

“She could be a porn star if she wanted to be.”

“I’m stopping this conversation before it starts.”

  


——

Mary insists they evacuate the bar after the third play of FRIENDS, being incapable of listening to yet another clearly scorned woman engaging in a public rejection onstage, and so Robert drives her home. She’s been in that beat up pickup truck countless times now, whether on impromptu cryptid hunting escapades or regular hangouts like this one, and so nestles into the passenger seat like home.

Despite her seeming comfortable, however, at some point everything seemed to crash down on her again. The silence during the short drive to the cul-de-sac is cut into by a sniffle, and looking over, Robert catches her face reddening.

“You alright?” 

Mary kicks at the bottom of the dashboard, expression tight and hard as if fearing everything would come tumbling out if she spoke. A breeze comes through the passenger side’s rolled-down window, prompting her to cross her arms over her chest to keep warm.

“Hard to believe, but we used to be happy.”

Robert flicks a cigarette butt out the window, nodding in a motion for her to go on. She takes in a shaking breath.

“I joke, and I’m so... mean. To him. All the time. But I really did love him once.” Her eyes are fixed on a point in her sleeve, and she idly rubs her fingers over it. “I don’t know if I still do. I know I’m not... his...”

“Type?”

She gives a tiny nod. “...and I... I know he’s going through so much I can’t even... begin to understand, but... it still hurts. You know? And I’m scared of _ now_, and... you know people are gonna look at me like I’m a fucking lunatic now that we’re separated.”

“I’ll fight ‘em.” Robert states, not wanting to break her train of thought too badly but still wishing to show support. He can see her weak smile, illuminated by the occasional streetlight. 

She sighs. “I appreciate that. Feels like I’m just... _ Mary the Drunk _ to these people. _ Mary the Shitty Neglectful Wife that Drove Her Husband to Adultery._”

The car goes silent as she turns to watch the trees whir by. Robert takes another drag of his cigarette. They’re nearing Maple Bay. 

“...you spend twenty years with someone, you have something, and... it doesn’t mean shit to him! He’s the one always talking about being the perfect marriage for the community or whatever and acting like _ I’m _ the failure when _ he’s _ the one trying to get in the pants of every Dad in the neighborhood!”

There’s the repeated thud of her heel beating the floorboard. Her hands grasp at her hair, and her voice cracks as she continues.

“You think I’d mean more to him than... someone he’s known for just a couple months, right?! I’ve been a shitty wife and I know but it hurts even though I know it shouldn’t! I thought separating would make us happy but I’m just so fucking _ scared_!” 

Her ranting reaches a crescendo and she lets out a wordless wail of frustration, burying her head in her hands. Robert’s used to feeling useless — he’s not a people person, and honestly, he knows he wouldn’t be able to relate to Mary even in her situation (he’d cut Joseph off, no second chances, ifs, ands, or buts) — but he knows he’s the only person she can go to about this, and lightly places a hand on her shoulder in silent support as she crumples into him.

It’s all he can offer, really, and he can hear her sobbing into his jacket as they pull into the cul-de-sac.

——

She stays at his house that night. It was a relatively common occurrence for the two, and on nights Mary was especially upset or angry, Robert was prepared to take the couch for her. (Regardless of how drunk she is, though, she always criticizes his home decor choices without fail.). 

Robert’s back aches when he wakes up, body uncomfortably clammy with his clothes from the previous night. Mary’s still asleep, presumably, either that or she walked out on him, which wouldn’t be a surprise either. He doesn’t take it as an insult — she has a life outside of their drinking nights, but she’s been seeking them out more as of late.

He knows what this means — ‘I’m sad and need a distraction’ — and it’s upsetting, as much as he values her company. He really does wonder how he managed to end up with a friend as dear as Mary, being the depressed alcoholic that fucked her husband and neglected his daughter, but... it occurs to him that she doesn’t have anyone else, and that hurts. 

She deserves better than to settle for someone like him. 

Weighed down by his thoughts, Robert pulls himself off the couch with a stretch. He’s acutely aware of his empty stomach, and his massive bedhead, but can’t bring himself to care just yet. At least he was getting out of bed — that was more than could be said some days. 

Partway through changing Betsy’s water, there’s the creak of the bedroom door opening. Out emerges a windswept-looking Mary, makeup wiped off her face as a short-sleeved red shirt of Robert’s hangs off of her, exposing the tattoo at the base of her throat of the same design as the one on his hand. She rubs her face tiredly, giving him a lazy salute when she enters his living room.

He squints. “I didn’t say you could steal my clothes.”

“You’ll have to fight ‘em off me.” Mary deadpans. She hones in immediately on Betsy, moving to the kitchen to lean down and pet her as Robert places her bowls down. “I’ll be out of your hair after I shower. That cool with you?”

“Yeah.” He steps back to watch the two, faintly recalling the day he adopted Betsy. Mary still teases him about the whole vampire thing with Damien, but who could blame him? He had plenty of reasons to be scared! “You alright?”

Mary’s scratching the small dog behind her ears slows, and he sees her expression drop. Without the makeup, he can see just how tired she looks — her eyes are sunken in deep, staring off morosely with visible bags weighing them down, her face pale and hair still frazzled by her pillow. Robert’s seen her practically every other day of his life for the past five years, at least in passing by virtue of being neighbors, but never before has she looked so... frail.

Despite this, she cracks a smirk, standing up straight to brush off her shirt. “Don’t worry about it, greaseball. Just gotta make myself pretty.” 

Her smile doesn’t reach her tired eyes, still red from her crying the night before. There’s so much pain in those eyes, her whole face, despite her words, and he wants to say some kind of assurance, but nothing comes out.

He’s not even fully aware of doing it, but in that moment, Robert’s placed his lips on Mary’s. Her tired eyes widen, then shut as she leans her head in. For a second, the only sensation the man feels is him kissing his best friend, and her, after her surprised pause, kissing him back. 

It feels like an eternity, but it’s only a second, half that, even. Reality sets in as Mary suddenly pulls back as if burned by the other’s touch, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. Robert stops, hand awkwardly hovering inches from her hair.

Did.

Did they just...

“You...” Mary starts, but trails off. For once, she doesn’t know what to say, and takes a single step back. Her eyes narrow warily, and he winces with how harsh her voice is. “...what was that?”

Honestly, Robert has no fucking idea. It just happened. He’s never thought of her in that way, and the only thing he could think of was that she needed comfort, but... god, he couldn’t have just patted her shoulder or something? What the fuck was that?

“I don’t know. Tired brain.” He averts his eyes, adjusting his shirt collar to get out some of that nervous energy. He still doesn’t know why he did that, what the fuck. “Sorry.”

The most awkward silence Robert’s experienced in his life falls over the room, and there’s nobody to watch to get his mind off of it but Betsy, who’s crunching away at her kibble like her owner wasn’t being the worst friend known to man. He can’t look at Mary, but he can feel her eyes on him.

Seconds pass. 

Finally, Mary speaks, in a low, hesitant voice.

“...I have to go shower now.” 

Robert can only numbly nod in reply, hearing her footsteps quiet as she moves into the bathroom. Eventually even Betsy departs from the kitchen, leaving him staring at a bowl of dog food with his own thoughts.

It was just a stupid impulse.

That was it.

Why was he lingering on it, then? 

He sighs, holding his head in his hands over the kitchen counter. He didn’t have romantic feelings for Mary. It’d be wrong. She was married up until a few weeks ago, for God’s sake. They were close, sure, but purely platonically. Just friends who supported each other through their respective bullshit. 

He’d never once thought about kissing her, or... anything like that. He’d never thought about taking her home for sex after their nights out, despite the impression others got seeing them so close together. Honestly, he always found the idea repulsive — they were friends. Nothing more. 

But he’d hugged her before, and stroked her hair, and he held her hand last night... and he comforted her, and defended her to Joseph, and at the graduation party, he’d headed straight to her to get her something, did that mean anything? He’d never been that affectionate with anyone but Marilyn, but honestly, that never crossed his mind.

He’d certainly never thought of Mary like that but, shit, maybe there was some kind of subconscious need to bone her or something. He sure didn’t know. 

God, he really was some weird teenager at heart. Wondering if he _like-liked_ his _best_ _friend_. Eugh. 

Regardless, if he did or not, she sure as hell didn’t deserve more emotional turmoil in her life. The divorce with Joseph was stressing her out enough. She didn’t need to have to worry about this too.

He turns on the faucet, splashing his face with cold water. This wasn’t a good way to start the day. 

——

Mary leaves without saying goodbye. She usually does, but Robert can’t help but feel hurt this time around. 

Any reasonable person would try and establish their relationship as soon as possible — talk about their feelings, the kiss, boundaries for the future — but Robert can’t bring himself to face Mary after that. Whether he loved her or not, he felt like an absolute creep — preying on an emotionally vulnerable divorced woman for... what, affection? To feel better about himself? 

Had he hit such a low in his pathetic life that he needed to invade hers like that? He was already a black hole of negativity, and was probably just making the already stressed Mary feel worse around him. Thinking on it, that’s probably why their time together was relegated to drinking nights. She probably couldn’t stand to be with a person like him on top of everything else going wrong in her life. 

He could feel himself spiraling, falling down a rabbit hole of self-loathing. He’d reached the point in his... well, he can’t really call it recovery if he’s continuing to wallow, but he also can’t think of anything else to describe it ...that he can recognize them when they happen, remind himself he’s being irrational. But here, the idea of Mary hating him? It seems not only rational, but likely.

If she didn’t before, she certainly did now. 

The one thing he knew, though, was that simply sitting with his thoughts would just be painful. He had to get up. Distract himself. Do something. Do something before he hurts himself. 

He takes a treat from the cabinet to coax Betsy to the door. Once there, he hooks a leash on her, grabs a plastic bag from the counter, tosses on his jacket, and heads out. Fresh air would clear his head, surely. 

The summer heat says otherwise, and Robert immediately winces at the sudden sunlight. Betsy bounces excitedly, untrimmed nails clacking against his driveway’s concrete. He should really have her checked by a vet, eventually — he should’ve guessed that he’d be a shitty Dad to even a dog.

“Mornin’! Er, uh, afternoon!” A hearty voice calls from across the street. Robert looks over to see Brian, waving at him with one hand and watering plants with another. A toothy grin is on his bearded face, and Robert can catch Daisy doing homework on the patio. “Good to see you finally out and about, Rob!”

Robert only mumbles in reply, broodily stuffing his free hand in his jacket pocket. As he leaves, he can hear a “say hi to Betsy for me!” from the larger man. This neighborhood was too nice. He was such a hermit he began to wonder if anyone except the Christiansens even remembered him, but, no — he was not only remembered, but appreciated. 

Making his way out of the group of houses and into the neighborhood, he thinks on how that happy town facade is... just that, a facade. All smiles on the surface, with a dark underbelly he couldn’t even imagine enough to fear. Nobody could be trusted. 

(He’s convinced the time there was a metal grill piece in a burger Joseph made for him was some kind of murder attempt. Why else would he give him his plate instead of letting him take it himself? And he just happened to be the only one to start choking? Ridiculous!)

He allows his mind to wander as he walks Betsy — that kind, dumb old dog was one of the happiest things in his life, and stopping her from eating fungi off the ground helps keep his mind off of things. 

Recently divorced things.

Recently divorced things with soft hair and a good sense of humor.

...He shouldn’t have let his mind wander. Robert curses himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stops to pick up his dog’s waste. Fucking hell, he never thought of Mary as much as he had today. Sometimes he forgot she existed until she threw a signed copy of Sex Detective 4 through his window when he hadn’t even _ read _ Sex Detectives 1-3. 

What the hell was he even going to do _ if _ his feelings were romantic? He knew he wasn’t ready for the commitment of a relationship, and felt Mary wouldn’t be either — not so soon after her last finally crashed and burned. Was he just... to stew in his thoughts? Would this just be another thing to keep him up at night? Did this godless universe really like his torment that much?

Mary wasn’t a trusting person, and yet even despite what he’d done with Joseph, she let Robert into her life — let him become her closest confidant. He was the person she voiced her insecurities with, the person she brought over to play with her kids, the person who knew things about her that even she didn’t. And in a single moment, because of an impulse decision he still doesn’t know why he made, all the trust they’d built had been shattered.

Was it his self-destruction? Did he hate himself so much that he took away one of the few things that made him happy on purpose? Did he know he didn’t deserve it? Given his track record, it wouldn’t surprise him. 

...he’d gone on this walk to distract himself, not dwell further. His dark thoughts continue to linger as he moves into the street with various shops, spotting the Coffee Spoon out of the corner of his eye. Coffee would probably help him clear his head and wake up a little, and last he checked there wasn’t any rule against animals on the premises. (Maybe. He didn’t trust his memory all too well, but whatever.).

Robert’s thankful for the air conditioning of the tiny shop, though he knows he’d probably be more comfortable if he took off that leather jacket, and the pleasant jazz playing through the speakers soothes even his cold, dead, broody soul. The place seems deserted, or at least quiet for a summer afternoon. He allows the door to shut behind him, making sure Betsy’s leash isn’t caught.

In that true Maple Bay hospitality, Mat smiles from behind the counter when he sees him, setting down the mug he’s holding to greet him. Robert knows the barista marginally better than everyone else, at least, having a few fuzzy memories of heading into the place after a heavy drinking night to be fed and walked home.

_ God_, this neighborhood was too nice for him.

“Afternoon.” Mat raises his tattooed arm in greeting, before moving it to adjust his glasses. “Usual?” 

“Mmn.” Hopefully, Mat knew him well enough to know that particular grunt was affirmative. Being known as the cool brooding sad man meant people couldn’t tell when you were actually sad. “Strong as you can make it, my good man. Got a lot on my mind.”

“I’ll do my best, but you might have better luck with a bottle of whiskey.” The barista jokes, turns to make his order, then stops. “...wait, uh, that wasn’t... offensive, or anything, was it?” He looks back to Robert, anxiety already evident on his face. “With your whole... drinking thi—“

“I thought it was funny.” Robert states, though his face and tone of voice really doesn’t show it. Mat’s a good friend, one of the few genuinely caring people out there, but the two’s personalities don’t mesh particularly well. Turns out making scary jokes all the time doesn’t fly very well with people with anxiety, huh.

Mat only gives a flustered nod as he goes back to Robert’s order, and the place is empty enough that Robert can linger by the counter as he does. As Mat pours him his cup, he asks, “So what's on your mind?”

_ Just some wildly conflicting feelings about my friend I kissed out of the blue, no big deal. _

“...personal stuff.”

Mat tilts his head as he affixes the cup with a top and slides a sleeve over it. “Personal stuff?” He echoes. God DAMN these nice people and their need to know about their friends’ issues. Robert _ wants _ to talk about this with someone so it won’t just keep festering, but gossip spreads in small towns like wildfire. 

Hell, Mary might have told someone about it already. 

The more rational side of him knows she doesn’t _ have _ anybody to talk to but him, Joseph, and Damien, and Joseph was off limits for obvious reasons while Damien’s heart probably wouldn’t be able to take the sudden confrontational drama, but he _ also _ remembers that Mary has no filter whatsoever and once started drunkenly complaining about his monster hunting tale to a patron a single booth over like he couldn’t hear her. 

So he has a reason to be concerned there.

He remembers Mat’s asked him to elaborate, and that it’s not exactly weird for him to not reply, but he feels the need. He glances from corner to corner of the coffee shop, before leaning in to look Mat in the eye.

“I’m in some deep shit, Matthew. Reputation might be ruined if this gets in the wrong hands.” True. “Yours too.” Probably false. “Got some scary people on my tail. They’ll do anything to silence a witness. Watch your windows tonight.” _ HOPEFULLY _ FALSE. 

Recognizing this is a joke, thankfully, Mat cracks a smile as he hands Robert his cup. “Well, uh, whatever it is, I hope you can work it out, man.” As soon as the other takes it, his hands move to his lap to fidget. “Dunno how close we are, but, Coffee Spoon’s usually open. I don’t mind being your shoulder to brood on.”

Handing the barista his dollar with a nondescript grunt and pressing himself into the deepest corner he can find, Robert can only think of how he’d been the one to dig himself into this mess. 

Whether or not he could dig himself out was another story.


	2. Never Stop

She’d had a minute of buffer, another to undress, and was now in the shower for two, but Mary still hadn’t fully processed what just happened. The lingering warmth on her mouth, even in the hot water, reminded her what she already knew, but it was still difficult to fully take in.

Robert had kissed her. 

A tired impulse, he called it, and she was willing to accept that (if only because her heart couldn’t take the strain of _ more _ relationship issues), but kissing someone wasn’t exactly something you did out of the blue. He’d never done it to comfort her _ before _ — usually it was an arm around her shoulders, or a hug, a peck on the cheek, maybe, but never the lips — so why had he now? 

She’d kissed him back, though it felt like more of an instinctive reaction — what you’re _ supposed _ to do when someone kisses you — than an awakening of any dormant feelings. (Not like she’d know, she hadn’t experienced anything like that in an embarrassingly long time.). Would she have shoved him off if given the chance? She doesn’t know, but all that matters is that she didn’t, and she’s now living in a world where her and her best friend have accidentally kissed.

Mary’s closed off as can be, distrustful and jaded from her marriage, and yet she’d let Robert stay in her life for the past five years. She’d spent a fair portion of her time in Maple Bay with him, and while admittedly she wouldn’t have had room to think about it like that while married to Joseph, she stands by the fact that if there were something, it probably would’ve reared its ugly head by now. These things don’t just pop up in a day after half a decade of radio silence.

Unless he’d been waiting. 

The thought makes her stop in the middle of scrubbing her hair. Had Robert just been... flirting with her all this time, and she’d simply misinterpreted? ...no, no, that couldn’t be it. She knows him well enough to know that he wouldn’t dance around this kind of thing, not for _ this _ long, and she’s a little angry with herself for even considering him to be that shallow — faking a friendship just to get in her pants.

She _ hoped _ that wasn’t it, anyway. His presence had been one of the only things keeping her sane as of late. If that was all fake, she wouldn’t know what to do. Snap, probably. Smash a glass over his head. Burn something down. Run home crying. Thinking on it, she knew exactly what she’d do. 

Mary scolds herself as she rinses — with her now having full responsibilities over the kids, she didn’t have room to fret about something as small as this. Last she checked the clock, it was noon, or just coming on noon anyway. The sooner she was home to take care of things, the better. 

Mind now on the day’s needs, she finishes up her shower and goes to redress with her clothes from the night before — she didn’t intend on spending the night when Robert first approached her at the party, so she’d have to make do. In fact, she didn’t intend on hanging out at all, but she would never complain about getting to spend time with him — especially when she probably would’ve drank herself to sleep alone otherwise.

She passes Robert in the kitchen as she leaves, catching him brooding over the sink as she goes. Her clothes are wet and crumpled, her sweater not tucked in like it usually is. She looks a mess, with her hair still damp and makeup unapplied as she stops in front of her door.

Joseph would never show up like this. No matter what he’d endured the previous night, he would greet his family with that tried-and-true smile and genuine enthusiasm. She’d tried to mimic that grin and positive energy countless times, but always fell flat. When her children see her, they don’t see a hardworking mom, or a role model, or even someone to enjoy being around. 

They see a wreck. 

On certain nights, Chris has heard her crying before, and peeked into her room to investigate. She’d try and compose herself, but could never hide from her child’s tired yet knowing eyes. Chris, she’d always felt a closer connection with, if only because of the issues he’d inherited from her. That was at least something she understood how to deal with, and supporting and relating to him was one of the only things she had that Joseph didn’t have better.

She loves her children dearly, but can’t find it in her to show it the same way her ex-husband does. He always has her outmatched, and though she knows logically it’s not a competition, she’s painfully aware of the change in demeanor that comes with them spending time with her over him. 

Joseph is home, which Mary for once is thankful for — at least the kids had _ some _ supervision while she was gone — and she can smell something wafting from the kitchen. Walking past, she sees Joseph cooking and chatting with the kids, Christie excitedly bouncing on her heels as she watches her father stir, and Chris lingering in the kitchen’s corner and licking off a spoon. The sight is so adorable that she feels like punching something.

She notices that godawful ‘kiss the cook’ apron Joseph’s wearing, the one with the cross on it, and is about to make a snarky comment to announce her presence, before realizing that she has no power over him and his terrible fashion choices anymore. Was this what being divorced was like? Was it too late to repair things? 

In the midst of adjusting her sweater to look semi-presentable before her family, Mary is interrupted by Christie’s enthusiastic “Mom’s home!” as the little girl dashes up to greet her. 

Mary manages a smile as she kneels to lightly hug her daughter in greeting. Joseph turns to see her, waving. “Afternoon! The kids are just helping out with lunch.” He gestures to Christie, and only then does Mary notice her grease covered hands and pull away. She loves her daughter more than anything, and wouldn’t consider herself a neat freak (at least not more than Joseph), but she really doesn’t want to risk staining this perfectly good sweater.

“Tell Rob I say hey next time, will you?” Joseph smiles, but the sentiment makes Mary uneasy. She remembers it’s technically not her business anymore, but even if Joseph’s relationships weren’t, Robert’s were. She can’t tell if Joseph’s offer is some kind of tease, an attempt at extending a hand to patch things up, or just being passive-aggressive about the other man’s behavior. Regardless, she nods, excusing herself to the bedroom to change, and that she’d rejoin them in a moment.

She rummages through her dresser, intending to look more ‘presentable to friends and family’ than ‘Sunday best’, but really she just wants out of these slightly damp clothes. Her wardrobe is largely modest, with dark or neutral colors, save for the bright pink ‘I’m A Drop The F-Bomb Kind Of Mom’ T-shirt Joseph had bought her around a year ago. 

For being an absolutely insufferable human being in every other way, shape, and form, Skye at _ least _ dresses formally. Mary isn’t sure if she’d be able to handle Joseph being free to run around and make awful fashion choices without _ someone _ to keep him on a leash. 

Her dynamic with Joseph since the divorce has been... odd. She supposes it makes sense — he no longer had to pretend to like being around her, but the lack of attention was something she hadn’t gotten used to. The fond pecks on the cheek he gave her were so common, even if, in the end, ingenuine, that not receiving them made her feel a little empty. 

She’d noticed him leaning in to give her one on several occasions, before remembering he no longer had to and pulling away. She knows not to take it personally, but it’s still jarring. Even when she knew it was fake as could be, she still liked having someone hold her.

Joseph made her feel secure, and he was the only person who could make Mary convince herself she was attractive and worthy of love. The younger men she hit on for booze at Jim & Kim’s didn’t care about that — the attention they gave her was a temporary high that always crashed down with twice the shame. Thinking on it, that’s probably why the current situation with Robert is making her so uneasy — was no relationship in her life genuine?

_ Don’t think about that. Think about... the comfortable cardigan and shirt you’re about to put on. _ ...yeah, no. She can never keep her mind from wandering when she’s alone. All she can do is change as quickly as she can and return to her family before she starts to spiral. She pulls the outfit on, teasing her hair with her hands in the mirror for a moment, before heading back out.

As she rounds the hallway’s corner, there’s a loud crash. Soon, Robert is pushed to the back of her mind by the mess Christie’s made of the kitchen.

——

The week proceeded like most, with the recent addition of Joseph being on-and-off absent to help look after Skye’s children. Mary has met them before — three little girls, not yet old enough for daycare, with hair darker and curlier than their father’s — as he admits that his own tiny, run-down home isn’t exactly a positive place for three three year-olds to grow up. 

Skye brings them over after church on Sunday. Christie and Christian need constant reminders to not pull their hair, as fluffy and grab-able as it is. Skye never talks to Mary when he visits, which she really doesn’t mind. The two of them had always clashed, and him winning Joseph’s heart — and the circumstances behind it — just made her abhor him more. 

There was a lot of awkward eye contact and glaring that afternoon, and she could’ve sworn he was twice as grossly affectionate with Joseph than usual, just to spite her. 

Christie has a sleepover with Craig’s twins, who Mary isn’t entirely sure how she managed to befriend, herself and Joseph have several church events throughout the week, Joseph has begun to try to enroll Chris in a Bible school over the summer, there’s a dog washing fundraiser at the animal shelter on Thursday, and...

Her moments of reprieve always come at the end of the week, started off by her movie night with Robert and Damien every second Friday. The three of them were an odd circle of friends, but they were close — drawn together by odd passions, being generally misunderstood, and, of course, a love for dogs — and she was glad to see Robert find another friend in Damien.

(She still caught him trying to prove the goth was a vampire on several occasions, unable to tell if it had become an in-joke or if he really still believed it.)

When Mary knocks on the door to Damien’s estate that evening, though, she’s only met with a confused “Is Mr. Small not coming tonight?”. 

She looks around, taking in that she’d not only never heard from Robert since the previous weekend, but that his truck isn’t in the driveway. Turning back to Damien, she simply shrugs. “I guess not. Off getting into a knife fight at the middle school, if I know him.”

Damien purses his lips with a frown, but accepts that. “I do hope he is alright... I know he was awfully looking forward to _ Isle of Dogs _tonight.” 

Mary nods, idly wondering herself. Damien’s home was literally next door to Robert’s, so it wouldn’t have been a long walk even for _ his _ tired self. He probably would let them know if he got sick or had another errand to run, so... what was the deal? Was he just avoiding them? As far as she knew, he didn’t really speak to Damien unless through her, and he didn’t have a reason to avoid _ him _. Was it her?

A realization hits Mary, and she hopes Damien doesn’t notice her expression drop. She straightens her sweater, sniffing. “I’m sure he’s fine.” She puts on a crooked smile. “We can just pick something else, yeah?”

——

Coming on Saturday, Mary _ still _ hasn’t heard from Robert. His truck had returned to his driveway sometime between last night and now, but she hasn’t seen the man himself since last week. She’s beginning to lose patience, riding the line between annoyed and terribly anxious. 

Robert never missed the movie nights with her and Damien without _ some _ kind of explanation. The sun is beginning to set over the cul-de-sac, and it should be a comforting sight, a cue to relax after a long week, but Mary feels anything but. Her mind continues to drift towards her friend, and she keeps glancing out the window in the direction of Robert’s house for any sign of life. 

It usually goes without any kind of statement in advance, but she decides to extend an invitation to their drinking night, figuring it’ll produce the same results (or lack thereof) as the movies with Damien. It was always worth a shot, though, right...?

** _8:02_ **

Sent to: Smalls 

[text]: Hey crackhead.

This is normal conversation for them.

** _8:02_ **

Sent to: Smalls 

[text]: You.

[text]: Me.

[text]: Jim.

[text]: Kim.

Her quadruple-texting habits tend to annoy most friends and coworkers she messages, but Robert was the one she’d picked the habit from, and she’d rub it in his face as much as she could. There’s no immediate response to her messages, which she expects, but she makes sure the children are asleep safe, and Joseph home to tend to them, before heading to the bar herself. 

By the time she’s there, the air has become uncomfortably hot and humid. Hopefully the oncoming night would cool things off. She turns in, flagging Neil down for her usual wine glass, and catches the sudden seize of anxiety in the male patrons. There Bloody Mary was, to torment local men unfortunate enough to frequent Maple Bay’s bars on a Saturday night.

Thankfully for everyone present, she has more on her mind than that. Hanging around here was more of a gateway to talk with Robert than anything to do with the bar experience — not to say it wasn’t usually, by now she was simply going through the motions to hide her succumbing to her worst vice. 

(Alcoholic was a strong word, and painted a very unflattering image. Even knowing, realistically, it’s true, she stamps the label as far down as she can. She just likes having fun, likes to relax, it helps get her mind off of things. Sometimes she goes a bit overboard, but she’s not _ that _. Right?)

She slides herself into the furthest corner booth, her usual spot when not in the mood for hanging off random patrons. Truth be told, she doesn’t know what she expects to come out of this. If Robert _ doesn’t _ show up, then she’ll just be drinking alone for a couple hours. The Game on the mounted television screens is mildly interesting, at least. 

Soon, Mary loses herself in observing the bar’s foot traffic. It feels hollow without Robert to crack jokes with, but it’s something to do. She continues to watch the bar’s entrance, feeling her heart skip a beat every time the door jingles open, but there continues to be no sign of her friend.

Slowly but surely, her glass drains, and just when she’s about to polish the last few drops, the man of the hour arrives. Robert shoulders in, and the expression of unease on his face makes her chest tighten. She hasn’t seen that guilt in his eyes since his ordeal with Joseph, and he averts his gaze as he approaches Mary’s booth.

It feels almost as if they’re in that fateful night again, the night he confessed the affair to her. Like there’s a wall between them once more. It puts her on edge, though she tries not to show it — he doesn’t need his friend to act antsy, too. Despite what recent events would have one believe, they supported _ each other _, not just he her. 

Regardless of how awkward her friend feels, she at least tries to give a normal greeting. “Hey, stranger.” Mary nods to him with a smirk — _ stranger _ was usually _ his _ nickname for her, but there gets a point after so many weekly visits that one runs out of material. 

“That’s my line and you know it.” Robert huffs, though his worried look lets up upon looking at Mary. It’s kind of funny to her, to them both really, that two bitter, distrustful, and jaded people could coax such genuine emotions out of each other. 

“So what’s the deal with yesterday? Know you like to ghost people, but never me or Dames.” She tries to keep the judgment out of her voice, lower it to a mellow curiosity as she orders Robert’s drink. 

The other simply shrugs, moving his eyes to watch the bartender. “Had a lot on my mind.” 

Mary knows that phrase all too well, what he says when he’s either going through something but wanting to avoid discussing it, or wanting to sound cool and mysterious. She’s leaning towards the former. 

“Nothing some special time with your favorite gal can’t fix, yeah?” She says, giving him a shoulder pat. “Just give a heads up — our goth prince was getting worried.”

Robert sighs. “Never meant to worry you guys, just had to be by myself for a while.”

She nods sagely. “Off cryptid hunting?”

He cracks a smile at that, though he still looks saddened. “Nothing helps you clear your head like lookin’ for horrors in the woods. You should join me more often — don’t have to be a clean, uptight housewife anymore.”

“Dad _ did _ teach me how to use a rifle.” Mary adds, sipping her wine as her conversation partner stops dead in his tracks.

“...wait, seriously?”

“Well, he took my brother out hunting and let me go skip stones and make flower crowns.” She shrugs. “I got bored and eavesdropped. I think that’s all you need to know about using a gun, right?”

Robert almost laughs, his smile widening. “Two decade old knowledge of a lesson you weren’t even a part of?” 

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” Mary waves a hand dismissively. “Do _ you _ know how to use guns? Think that’s the bigger problem here.”

“‘Course I do. What self-respecting bad boy would I be if I couldn’t?” Mary appreciates his self awareness. “I’d take you out on a range, actually, but I’m not sure I can trust you with that kind of weapon just yet.”

That was fair. She wouldn’t either. 

——

As the conversation continues, down increasingly odd rabbit holes such as that one, the circumstances behind the visit are pushed to the back of Mary’s mind. It was almost as if nothing was off, and she’s inclined to believe that, but eventually, the elephant in the room had to be addressed. 

The conversation hits a lull, and finally, one of them — Robert — brings the incident back into the limelight.

“So.”

“So?”

“About what I did last weekend.” Robert stares down into his whiskey glass, face red, though whether from the topic at hand or the alcohol is anybody’s guess. 

“We’re adults here.” Mary shrugs, stretching her arms in her seat. “You can say you kissed me. Not like we haven’t talked about worse.” They have, granted. There isn’t much of a line for risqué business in their conversations, but she _ has _ threatened to break a bottle over Robert’s head for making her consider in-depth who topped between Skye and Joseph.

(She knows. She just doesn’t like to think about it for more than she has to.)

Robert nods. “Right.” He moves to scratch the back of his neck, voice uncharacteristically low and unsure. “It’s just... just made me think about things.”

“Gonna have to be more specific there.” She can tell where this conversation is going, and it leaves a pit in her stomach, though it’s best she knows the other’s side of things before doing anything rash. Even then, she can’t be mad at him like she can everyone else. When your friendship is founded on their affair with your husband, everything else you can fight over feels dull in comparison.

Robert goes silent, looking from his glass to Mary for a long time, lost in thought. Seconds pass, and the usual idle chatter of the bar feels muted with how intently Mary’s listening. “About... ugh.” He scoffs. “...us. I guess.”

She waits for him to elaborate, but it never comes. “Rob.” She states. “I sat through you talking about being in love with my husband.” A slight smile crosses her face, and she shakes her head. “I’m afraid it’s not gonna get worse than that.”

He takes in a quivering breath, before immediately downing his drink, wincing slightly with the strength of it. “...I think I’m in love with _ you _, Mary.”

Her smile wavers, then fades. She opens her mouth to respond, but the floodgates have apparently been opened. Robert continues, everything he’d felt from the past week tumbling out onto the booth table. 

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Finally realized I felt that way. Don’t know how long I _ have _, but...” He trails off and grimaces, shaking his head. “I feel like shit for it.”

He finally looks Mary in the eye, looking more haggard than usual. “I don’t wanna be like Skye. I can’t put you through that. But I couldn’t just...”

He takes a deep breath, fist clenching against the table. 

“...lie to your face again. You’re not married anymore, sure, but... you still don’t want this. You deserve a better friend, and... someone better to love than me.” He reaches for his glass, but stops as he finds it’s empty, instead opting to cross his arms tightly and avoid eye contact. “Sorry.”

The two’s jokes straddle the line between friendship and romance on occasion — they’ve talked several times about how Robert would’ve been a better husband to her than Joseph, but never once has Mary looked at him and seen someone to truly, romantically, _ love _ . It’s all platonic, jokes between friends, and though the topic was something they’d had to confront when a very confused newly hired barman saw them together and told Joseph under the pretense of revealing a torrid affair, largely, the idea of them _ together _ was... laughable at worst, and a ‘wouldn’t it be cool if I married my best friend’ fantasy at best. 

There’s a question that must be asked before the question of Robert, however, and it’s if Mary’s willing to date again at _ all _. In theory, the idea was interesting — the aforementioned best friend marriage fantasy — but she’d thought the same thing about Joseph before things truly began to fall apart. She thinks of her and Robert, and can only see her and Joseph. The fighting, the confined and claustrophobic nature of the whole relationship... she looks at what her and Robert have now, and she can’t stand to ruin it.

“Love’s a poison, Rob.” She finally says, unable to keep the exhaustion that came from merely thinking about this out of her mind. “Sucks you dry and turns you mad. I don’t want to go through that again. Not so soon.” 

She sips her wine, trying to avoid Robert’s eyes. “And I don’t wanna be a shrink, but you can’t love anybody ‘till you stop hating yourself. That goes for both of us. Don’t know for sure how I feel, but we both could afford to sort our shit out before trying anything.”

The booth goes silent, and the possibilities of what she might have said wrong run through her mind, before Robert finally speaks up. “You’re taking this well.” 

Mary simply shrugs. “Did you think I’d let that ruin things? Can’t get rid of me whether you want to or not.”

There’s a low laugh from Robert, and he smiles — no snark, irony, or malice is in that smile. Only love and admiration, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that. “We both know I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, mock-scoffing. “Alright, if you’re gonna get all sappy on me, I’m revoking your best friend status. I need someone to humble me, not stroke my ego.”

“It’s true.” Robert leans forward against the table, before abruptly looking away — likely afraid of his affection being misinterpreted now the secret was out. “I don’t care what anyone says. You were the real nice one in that household.”

“...eh.” It was a strangely common compliment, one she got from even Joseph — that she was truly kind, despite her appearance. She wasn’t sure where anyone got that impression, when she figured she was doing the bare minimum in terms of wifing. And parenting. And friendship. “Low bar, there.”

“Fair enough. He’s probably just lying in wait for another commandment to break now that adultery’s out of the question.”

Mary snorts at that. All things considered, it should be a rough topic, and in every other situation it _ was _, but joking with Robert was easier. Maybe it was their shared experience, or that they were simply the kind of people to crack jokes about each other’s traumas.

Regardless, she could always count on him to make it a little less painful.

——

It’s pouring down rain by the time they leave Jim & Kim’s. Mary whines, though it’s not a long walk back home, and leans against Robert in an attempt to shield herself from the worst of the downpour. The faded lights of the bar flicker in the oncoming storm, and the smaller woman shivers in the breeze. Wasn’t it supposed to be _ summer _?

Robert shoulders his jacket off, pulling Mary closer to hold it over her head. The makeshift umbrella isn’t much, as he can only cover so much of her with his own two hands, but it works. “C’mon,” he says, voice drowned out by the drizzle, which was now quickly becoming a cascade.

“Such a gentleman.” Mary chuckles, crossing her arms and making a show out of putting zero effort into helping Robert stay dry. _ Nice one _, her ass. 

He notices this and scoffs as he leads her back through the cul-de-sac. “You’re insufferable.”

Mary only laughs, leaning closer into her friend’s side. “You’re the one that loves me. You signed up for this.” 

As the two reach their doors, Robert drapes his jacket over Mary’s shoulders. She’s about to chastise him for letting her get wet just after walking her home — “What’d I say about being sappy, dude?” — but is cut off when he wraps his arms around her. 

She doesn’t know if it’s only noticeable now, knowing what she knows, but Robert’s embrace feels more tender than usual. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.” He mumbles into her hair.

Mary leans against him with a sigh, hoping not to give the wrong message, but always appreciating the affection. One arm reaches around his shoulders in a half-hug, the other holding his jacket tighter to her.

“I don’t either.”


	3. One More Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of child neglect.

It’s beginning to embarrass Robert how often Mary is on his mind. Every time there’s some kind of get-together in the neighborhood, he always finds himself scanning the crowd for her first. She’s always happy to see him, of course, but he worries constantly about overstepping his boundaries — boundaries that, before this whole debacle, didn’t seem to exist.

He never would’ve considered himself  _ falling  _ for her, especially not after five years of simply being friends, but the slow realization over that first week suggested otherwise. He may have just tricked himself into falling in love with her — maybe the kiss really was just a dumb tired impulse, and he’d thought so hard about it that it was willed into being — but regardless of the how or why, he’s smitten. 

Weeks have passed since the night he told her how he felt, and at first he figured getting it off his chest would help get it off his brain, too, but it seems to have produced the opposite effect. He really hopes Mary doesn’t notice the way his breathing changes when she sprawls across his lap, or how much his heart pounds now when she gets close, or how when she wears the occasional less-than-modest outfit his eyes are drawn to places a friend really shouldn’t be looking.

During one of their movie nights with Damien, after a particularly work-heavy week, she’d dozed off against him. Needless to say, he had trouble focusing on the film, even through Damien’s yelps at the well-timed jump-scares. She may have been attempting to return to normalcy, to push down her discomfort, but Robert was unable. 

She makes him feel genuine love he hasn’t in forever, and he truly is thankful to even be allowed in her life, but he feels even more ashamed knowing he doesn’t deserve to be there. His confession had been taken surprisingly well, rejection aside, but he has a suspicion that it wouldn’t be taken as well if she knew  _ just _ how much he thought about her. He was beginning to creep  _ himself _ out. 

At the very least, he’s thankful Mary seems to be in higher spirits. The divorce with Joseph — before, during, and after — was the worst he’d seen her, and while it clearly still plagued her, he saw her smiling more, even complaining less about her ex-husband. It gave them less cruel joke material, sure, but he’s happy to see her beginning to heal. 

He’ll be the first to admit his bias, but seeing the same behavior in Joseph only makes him angry, perhaps because he knew firsthand the heartbreak that came with being tossed aside by the  _ ’good Christian’. _ Joseph seems to treat his relationships like games, at least to Robert, and going behind Mary’s back for years on end when he realizes she’s not what he wants is one of the best examples he can think of.

...okay, maybe he’s more bitter about this than she is, but he talks to her and wonders how anybody could stand to throw her away like nothing, to be so dismissive of someone so clearly in pain. Did Joseph even know what he had?

It’s not to say he’s done nothing but sit around and think creepy things about his best friend for the past month. There’s a more pressing issue in his personal life right now, and somehow, the shame that comes with pining after Mary is easier to deal with. 

He asked for something else to think about, and the monkey’s paw curled a finger when Val hunted down his DadBook and messaged him after around three and a half years of radio silence.  _ i’m around town for a gig this weekend. don’t know if you feel like meeting up, honestly don’t mind either way, but figured i’d let you know. your dog’s cute btw. _

It’s not reaching out, she even says plain as day that she doesn’t outright want to, but her wanting to talk to him at  _ all _ is...

...something. He’s not emotionally prepared to look in the eyes of the daughter he spent two and a half decades neglecting and pretend that everything's normal. He can put on a face to strangers, hide behind dumb stories and pretend he doesn’t have emotions, but it’s much harder with the people he truly does care about. 

And he truly does care about Val, even if it’s far too late to. He’s proud of his daughter, he  _ wants _ to see how she’s grown since he last saw her... but before he could even begin to do that, he had to establish a relationship with her. As much as he hates to admit it, the fear of that prospect outweighs the potential happiness and closure of seeing her again.

The message has been left on read for three days now, and the weekend is fast approaching. Nothing’s stopping him from locking himself in his house and waiting out the weekend when it comes, but the anxiety of how close it is, how close  _ she _ is, keeps him up at night.

So, until then, he’ll continue to chase short-term happiness. He remembers what Joseph told him those years ago, about finding bits and pieces of happiness whenever possible in the monotony of day-to-day life, and while he knows now that was merely an excuse from the other man, he still thinks about it. 

His life has been in shambles for as long as he can remember, long before he even came to this tiny beach town, but he can try and convince himself it’s not. His wife is dead, his daughter hates him, and his liver may fail at any moment, but he has a nice and attractive drinking buddy that he’s not convinced doesn’t think he’s creepy, so it really doesn’t matter, right?

——

There’s an unspoken agreement between Robert and Mary to not involve Damien in their personal issues, and yet it’s after sitting through  _ Mean Girls _ (surprising nobody, it was Mary’s pick) that the topic of Val is breached.

Damien laughs nervously, threading his fingers through his hair. He’s leaning comfortably against the edge of his velvet couch, somehow managing to look pristine despite the copious amounts of junk food he and everyone else had consumed. “Truth be told, Robert, I didn’t know you had a child. I hadn’t heard you mention her before.”

“Not a lot to say about her.” Robert leans back against his own spot on the sofa, pulling off his filthy shoes before kicking his feet up. “Don’t keep in touch, really.” 

“Oh...” Damien frowns, likely not having expected that kind of answer. His voice softens. “Was there some kind of fallout...?” 

Mary listens in, sat between the two with a blanket swaddled around her, but says nothing just yet. Robert sighs, looking away from them both.

“Not gonna sugarcoat it — I was a shitty Dad.” He reaches towards one of the discarded wine bottles on the floor, tipping it to his lips. Thankfully it’s not empty — this isn’t a conversation he thinks he can have sober. “Marilyn took care of everything. I was just mooching off her.”

There’s only a few drops left, and so he drains it quickly. Not nearly enough to make what he’s admitting the least bit easier.

“After the accident, I realized I didn’t know anything. Never even learned how to cook for her — she lived off food delivery and takeout from her sophomore year of high school to college. Had dirty clothes. Never made proper arrangements for her school.” 

The more he speaks, the more bitter he feels. Sometimes he thinks he has the capacity for good, and then he remembers how he treated his own family. No amount of good deeds can make up for doing that to a child. He waits for Damien or Mary to speak, and when they don’t, he continues, gesturing to the latter with his bottle. “You call yourself a shitty mom, but if you saw Val in high school you probably would’ve called the cops on me.” 

“Robert...” Damien begins, and then trails off. It takes a second for him to find his words, as Robert thinks how he probably can’t even defend somebody like him. “You were going through a lot too. You didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Mary, on the other hand, takes a completely different approach. She unwraps herself from her blanket, shifting in her seat to get a better look at Robert. “You were shitty.” She states, blunt as ever. “Nobody’s excusing what you did—” She side-eyes Damien, too kind for his own good. “—and she doesn’t have to forgive you. But telling her you’re sorry is a hell of a lot better than just letting her see you as an abusive asshole forever.”

“I  _ am one. _ ” Robert’s voice cracks, and he twists his face into an expression of anger to bite back tears. They don’t need to see his guilt tripping. “Apologizing won’t change that. I shouldn’t even try.”

“No one can change the past, Robert.” Damien sighs. “All you can do is try and improve for the future. If you’re as awful as you say, you wouldn’t be as regretful as you are.” He sits up straight, turning his head to Robert with a sad smile. “I know you’re a good person—”

“ _ No _ .” Robert snaps, clenching his fists. Damien shrinks back, looking away, while Mary glares. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “No, you don’t. You don’t know me.”

Damien’s situation is a very, very unsettling parallel to his own, and seeing someone so dutifully raise a teenager alone following the death of a spouse hurts to look at. All it tells Robert is that he could’ve been better. Grief wasn’t an excuse. 

“He’s trying to be  _ nice _ , dude.” Mary defends. She’s closer to Damien than even him, and hurting her ‘special boy’ is probably more likely to get one on her shitlist than fooling around with Joseph. Her glare softens, then fades into her usual disinterested look — Robert knows it’s hard for her to stay mad at him, and part of him wishes it wasn’t, just so she can give him the lashing he knows he deserves. “Seriously, though. Val’s giving you a chance. Who knows if you’ll have any more if you waste it.” 

“I just...” He goes quiet for a moment. Mary’s right, and, hell, so is Damien. He knows what he has to do if he ever wants to fix things with Val, the idea just... scares him more than anything. He can’t even think of any more excuses, just that he’s  _ scared _ . “...worry.” 

He stares back into his empty wine bottle, thinking only of such a coward his friends think he must be, and how right they were.

Instead, though, he feels Mary move closer to him. He doesn’t glance up, and so is taken by surprise when she suddenly embraces him. He leans into her — the warmth of her sweater, his jacket, and the blanket still draped over her lap should be suffocating, but all Robert can think of is how desperately he needed her support. 

Over her shoulder, he can see Damien smiling fondly at the two of them. His heart sinks, immediately regretting snapping at the man. He shuts his eyes in favor of holding Mary a little longer, and he can hear a creak from the other end of the couch as Damien stands and walks over.

He feels a bony hand on his shoulder, followed by a soft voice. “You needn’t worry, Robert. She will be happy to see you again.”

——

Needless to say, Robert has a hard time believing that, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he took all of that support and proceeded to chicken out anyway. After slaving over how to respond (and frantically consulting Mary and Damien for assistance, where he had to insist to the latter that no, he was not going to handwrite a letter in response to a DadBook message), he finally greets Val, asks her when she’s free, and if they could grab breakfast at some point during the weekend. 

Never mind that he never wakes up at breakfast time, and if she’s anything like him, she won’t either.

It’s kind of funny to him how similar their typing styles are when she likely hasn’t ever seen him type until now. Nonchalant all-lowercase type and triple-texting runs in the family, somehow. She agrees to meet up Sunday morning at a tiny diner near the park, sending him photos she’s taken around town while she’s at it. The lack of hostility from her feels very, very wrong, but he supposes it’s best she not wallow in negativity like he does. 

Saturday is spent trying to look presentable (read: showering for once, washing his face and clothes,  _ attempting _ to stay away from drinking), and Mary pulls him aside at their usual evening time. Not to bar hop, as she knows he has to be somewhere tomorrow, but for a night on the town to keep his spirits up. 

Robert knows by now he can never have the heart to refuse her, but makes several comments about the hypocrisy of her concern with how often she showed up hungover to church, to which she responds with something about the Lord healing all wounds. He does really appreciate her kindness — even if she denies it, she’s one of the truly best people he knows. You don’t need to be  _ nice _ to be  _ good _ , he thinks. 

“Not really used to  _ you _ dragging  _ me _ out.” His eyes don’t leave the Christiansen household — Mary says Joseph’s preoccupied with the kids, and that what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, but Robert’s been conditioned by the number of times him walking Mary home has ended in having to listen to the two scream at each other into being wary. He still hasn’t fully taken in that they don’t have a hold on each other anymore. 

Forcing himself to push back those memories of seeing the couple at their respective highest stress levels, Robert leans back in the passenger’s seat and asks, “Sure you’re not planning something?”

Mary stops herself in the middle of sweeping papers off of Joseph’s dashboard, and the unusual silence that follows makes Robert look over. Her hand hovers over a receipt, before she drops it and sinks into her seat with an unreadable, though certainly pained, expression. “...I... I can never lie to you, Rob.”

Robert straightens, turning his head to get a better look at Mary. He starts to ask what’s wrong, chest already tight with concern, when Mary lifts her head to look him in the eye. Her expression is dead serious, her eyes dark.

“I actually brought you here to kill you. Joe and I never split. It was all a ruse to lure you into our basement, the darkened tunnels beneath the cul-de-sac, where we would proceed to flay you alive in the name of our unholy ocean-dwelling eldritch God and make love atop your festering corpse.” 

...he was actually worried about her for a second there. 

Mary leans forward, hand moving to her prey’s jacket. She shakes her head — despite her words, there is no hint of regret in her eyes. “I never wanted to do this to a friend, Robert, but it was my mistake for getting attached to the sacrificial lamb. Joseph will no doubt have me punished for such a transgression, and—”

Her voice wavers, then sputters as Robert realizes she’s been rummaging a hand through his jacket. “—shit, fuck, I thought you kept the knife in this pocket.  _ Damnit _ !” She pulls back, now cackling. Robert can’t help but laugh too — that was a good one. 

“You actually scared me there.” 

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best.” She moves back into position, decides it’s probably best to get on the road in case any passerbys got weird ideas seeing her crawl on him, and begins to pull out of her driveway. “Hey. Seatbelt.”

Seatbelt. “Unless you’re actually about to skin me in a ritual slaughter, you never said where we’re going.”

Mary shrugs. “Just a walk by the water in a nearby town. Has nice food stands and stuff.” She continues to drive in silence, left to study her own thoughts, before continuing. “Still wanted to see you, but I figured drinking ‘till we black out won’t set a great mood for you and Val tomorrow.”

“It really wouldn’t.” Robert exhales out his nose in a part-laugh, but the joke hits a little close to the truth for how he’d raised his daughter. “And you get onto me for being sappy, huh?”

“Okay, jackass, let me go home and let you drink yourself into a coma the night before you see your daughter again after four years.” She rolls her eyes, but her snippy tone fades into a more serious one. “I’m just glad you’re taking that step. You deserve to be happy.”

His heart warms. He doesn’t know if he can agree with her just yet, but hearing it from Mary puts him in a better mood than a night on the town ever could.

——

True to Mary’s promise, he returns home in uncharacteristically high spirits. No drinking, no venting, no impromptu therapy sessions or cruel jokes, just a genuinely nice rendezvous around town. Not to say he doesn’t enjoy Mary’s company otherwise — bitching about people together and watching her torment local men was one of his favorite pastimes, but it was rare they went out on a Saturday night  _ without _ the angle of engaging in some good old-fashioned self-destruction.

They’d checked out those food stalls, had smoothies (though Mary drank most of his), and gone walking by the water. It had quickly turned into dancing by the water, to the music filtering from a nearby restaurant. He’d grabbed her and twirled her, and despite her protests, the look of excitement on her face as he did was more than enough to make his night. 

If you told Robert two months ago he would’ve fallen head over heels for Mary Christiansen, he would’ve laughed like it was the funniest, dumbest concept ever.

And yet, here he was.

——

The diner is so greasy it almost hurts to breathe in, but Robert’s never been one for having standards in the food he consumes. It’s Val’s suggestion, so at least she can’t get upset at him for bringing her someplace cheap. He’s not as terrified of this encounter as he would be otherwise, but he’s still pretty terrified. 

He steps into the area with booths and tables, seeing no sign of Val. (He hasn’t seen her in more years than is appropriate for a father to spend completely apart from his daughter, but he assumes she hasn’t undergone plastic surgery or dyed her hair since leaving for college.) He worries for a moment he’s in the wrong place, and in the middle of rereading their message exchange to double-check, the door to the diner  _ slams _ open. 

“ _ YOU. _ ”

A high-pitched female voice sounds behind him, followed by the clacking of heels against the checker-patterned tile floor of the diner. Several patrons look up from their meals and menus, 9:00 AM being far too early for whatever drama that’s about to unfold. 

Robert turns around, and there his daughter is, stomping over with the purest look of rage he’s ever seen on a human being. He takes a wary step back, hitting a table as he realizes he’s cornered. 

Shit. He gave her knife throwing lessons when she was ten. He’s strong, but she’s lithe and fast. He won’t make it out of this diner alive. 

Val grabs him by the collar of his leather jacket, and every pair of eyes in the diner is on the two of them. Her dark, sunken in eyes are blazing with fury, and the grip she has on him is enough to frighten even the Dover Ghost. “You—“ she repeats, that single word dripping with venom. “—did  _ not _ tell me this place built a dog park since I was gone!” 

Robert is seriously beginning to rethink his brand of humor, it really doesn’t have a great influence on the people around him. Val lets go, and the others in the diner, upon realizing that they weren’t about to witness a murder, return to their own business. 

“I got distracted by the dogs and didn’t realize I was  _ late _ and now I feel like the  _ worst _ child.” 

Robert waves dismissively. “I’d be distracted too, no worries.” Val seats herself in the nearest empty booth, and now that pure fear isn’t coursing through his veins, Robert has a chance to really look at his daughter as he slides in to join her.

Typing style and sense of humor isn’t the only thing they have in common after all this time, apparently. Val slips the pair of sunglasses atop her head down to her nose, and the sleeves of her leather jacket are neatly rolled up to the base of her wrists. She’s tall, too — about Joseph’s height, actually. 

The more he sees them, the more convinced Robert becomes that the children of Maple Bay are simply clones of their parents, down to the fashion sense.

A waiter passes them their menus, not before giving Val an annoyed look for screaming her entrance, and as the girl flips through hers, Robert realizes with a sigh that he’ll have to be the one to start the conversation. Being brick walls to talk to runs in the family too, huh. 

“Figure I should start with an apology. For... everything.” He’s looking through the menu, and not even those delicious-looking brownie bites can soothe the anxiety in his heart right now. “I know your life with me’s been a living hell.”

Val shakes her head, holding up a manicured hand to silence him. “I appreciate that, but I don’t want this just to be about our bullshit. I’ve been talking to a therapist — helping me deal with my emotions and stuff.” She sets down her menu with a solemn look. “I don’t wanna be angry anymore.”

“You have a right to be. No parent should ever treat their kid like I treated you.” 

“Look, Dad—” She shakes her head again, grabs her menu, and holds it up to him. “—these brownie bites look  _ really _ good and I don’t wanna cry in them.”

“Val, I don’t want you to pretend that what I did was normal.” While she gets her looks from him, it seems Val gets most of her demeanor from Marilyn — headstrong, bold, passionate, and more kindhearted and tolerating of his bullshit than she should be. 

Val sighs. “It wasn’t. It was terrible.” Her eyes narrow, then soften. “But I’m in a better place now. Literally and mentally. Being pissed off forever is just gonna keep me from being happy.” She fidgets with one of her sleeves, staring into the salt shaker. “I  _ want  _ to repair things. Don’t exactly have any other family around...”

Robert can’t wrap his head around the fact that she’s just... not angry. She’s not yelling at him, not even raising her voice at him, and it feels wrong. She  _ should _ hate him. She shouldn’t even be visiting.

“How’s town been?” She asks, abruptly changing the subject. “Still talk to the neighbors? I know you still live on the same street ‘n’ stuff.” 

“I do, yeah. Still really nice people.” They’re cut off by the waiter returning to ask them what they want to drink, and it’s amusing to Robert that Val chose the most sickeningly sweet-looking chocolate milkshake on that menu. Striking fashion sense she may have, but it’s funny to see her inner child come out.

“Udell and Hugo split — Hugo still lives around here, not sure about his ex.” He pauses, not sure if he should get into this in front of his child, but while he’s giving a rundown of things, he may as well. “So did Joseph and Mary. Still live together, though.” 

Val frowns a little at that — Robert isn’t entirely sure if she remembers who Joseph is, but he knows Mary and Marilyn were friends at a point. “Yikes. What happened with ‘em?” 

“He cheated.”

“ _ Yikes _ . What happened to that being one of the ten things people like him aren’t supposed to do?”

Robert stifles a laugh. “You can say Christian, sweetie. It’s not an insult.”

Val snickers, and the table goes quiet until drinks come. A plain beer, next to an ungodly concoction of whipped cream, chocolate ice cream, what he’s sure is several chunks of brownie, and chocolate sprinkles. It almost reaches Val’s eyes, it’s so tall. 

“No offense, Sunshine, but I’m having a heart attack just looking at that.”

“What, jealous?”

“ _ How can you drink that. _ ”

Val rolls her eyes and leans in to suck on her straw, but she’s clearly struggling with getting the thick concoction down. “Don’t act like it’s any worse than the garbage  _ you _ put in your body.”

Robert shakes his head, lifting his cup. “Nothing wrong with alcohol, Val.”

“Yeah, but  _ everyday? _ I’m being bullied for treating myself when I once watched you have whiskey with your cereal.”

He winces. “I’m a changed man.” He’ll avoid mentioning he’d once eaten Smarties like cereal. In his defense, he was very drunk, it was the night after Halloween, and he’d been running on no food for about a day. Sometimes a man has to do what he must in survival situations. 

Val complains about the food she orders, but Robert has a feeling it has more to do with the chocolate milkshake she somehow managed to finish in five minutes than anything to do with her meal. They continue to play catch-up, long after both of them have cleaned their plates.

He learns she has a girlfriend, who, according to Val, passes his personal test of people she can date. (He made it up on the spot, to be honest, but it consists of “is Mothman real”, “if your parents and spouse are both drowning who would you save”, “do you thank retail workers”, and “is pineapple on pizza acceptable”. He reminds himself to get this Jennifer girl to retake it when they meet in person.)

She’s training to be a veterinarian, apparently. Her and Val have a pet cat, and their anniversary is in August. He’ll have to remind himself to wish them a happy one when it comes. 

On her end of things, Val learns of the new additions to the neighborhood — she asks if she can babysit Craig’s twins next time she comes back, which he’s sure the athlete will appreciate — as well as the situation with Mary. Not in any heavy detail, of course, but a sly grin grew on the girl’s face as Robert talked about her, and she very correctly guessed that the divorcee had something to do with her father’s more frequent smiles and less frequent complaining. 

Though Robert doesn’t want it to, the morning draws to a close. Val hugs him as she goes, something he knows she hasn’t done since long before they lost Marilyn. She assures him that she’ll visit again soon, and though Robert catches that she’s been dodging the elephant in the room this entire visit, and that there’s still an odd distance between them, he’s incredibly grateful they decided to meet up.

After she drives off, he receives several more messages of photos of Maple Bay, and his town has never looked so much like a place he’d genuinely be happy to live in. Things weren’t going to be perfect — not for a long time. One morning wasn’t going to fix everything he’d ever done to hurt his daughter, but for once, Robert feels as if the pit he’s crawled himself into finally has a foothold to begin the climb out of.


	4. To The Top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The younger Joseph and Mary headcanon is based off of this post and art by Tumblr user coecretsquid — I love it a lot, haha. https://coecretsquid.tumblr.com/post/169149158428/i-know-punk-rock-edgy-young-mary-is-the-popular
> 
> Enjoy!

If you were to ask Mary whether she prefers adventure or comfort, she would say adventure. It wouldn’t be a surprise — she spends her time when not busy with church or children bar hopping and flirting with strangers, she married Joseph when he was a reckless man of the sea (and it’s hard to see their falling out of love around the time he mellowed out as a mere coincidence), and her best friend is a man who collects knives, hunts cryptids, and brings her out on runs around town without warning. Her desire for adventure when she can’t have it is her greatest sin, those critical of her would say.

If that were the whole truth, however, she wouldn’t be dreading leaving her comfortable beach city and breaking away from her old life as much as she is. She knows, realistically, that divorcing Joseph means they can’t be under the same roof forever, but it’s still a surprise when it comes. 

It’s not as if she doesn’t have anywhere to go — she has her hometown, grossly conservative and small-town-crazy as it may be — it’s more that she realizes she doesn’t _ want _ to go. She’d be away from the kids, and Damien, and Robert, and sure, she can always come visit, but... Maple Bay is her home, and a far better one to her than where she grew up. She knows she’ll get used to it eventually, as soon as the excitement of being free hits her, but in the moment, all she feels is stress and unease. 

Joseph stopping her leaving for the door one weekend and sitting her down on the couch is painfully reminiscent of the days they’d force themselves together — simultaneously deeply in denial and long since resigned to their misery as they’d pretend to be in love again — and the familiarity isn’t lost on Mary.

She turns and glares, though she doesn’t shove his hand off her shoulder. “What.”

Her ex-husband’s face has changed since the divorce — the exhaustion and sadness behind his eyes seems to have vanished, but it returns in times like this. Every time he talks to Mary, she’s noticed. “Can we talk?” He asks.

Blinking slowly, she narrows her eyes. “...Why.” Even six months after they’ve separated, she finds it hard to have an adult conversation with him. She’s a mature person (...okay, the jury’s still out on that one), but her inner brat always seems to come out around Joseph. 

She very clearly remembers smoking for the first time in years after learning of the affair, just so her and Joseph could fight about it and she had an excuse to chew him out for driving her to do so. It’s not a healthy way to handle problems, a terrible one in fact, but he infuriates her so _ much _, and screaming her anger out is an alternative to bottling it up in more ways than one. He always did want her to sober up, but he never said what she had to do instead. 

She also recalls wordlessly screeching just to drown out what he’s saying, which she remembers every time she rhetorically asks herself why he was so miserable he had to resort to his lonely neighbors. The hypocrisy of Mary wanting an adult relationship where she’s listened to and then acting like she does isn’t lost on her, she’s just long since given up on the possibility of that kind of thing with Joseph. 

It still irks her, though, how he plays that up. _ She _ was the one with a drinking problem and mere income of a fundraiser organizer and an animal shelter worker. Joseph’s the rich one, the one who could afford to drop everything and run if he really wanted. Joseph calling himself trapped when Mary was the one who had no way to support herself or the children should something happen to him always felt like a complete joke. What a hapless victim this wealthy yacht owner with an entire city backing him was, huh? What about her? Wasn’t _ she _ trapped?

He’s silent for a moment, and Mary squirms uncomfortably as he studies her face, as if he could hear her cynical thoughts. Finally, he sighs. “I just want to reminisce, I suppose. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“We‘ve been married for twenty years.” Mary can see his eye twitch in annoyance. She should stop testing his patience, but it’s also _ really _ funny.

Joseph stops, inhales, exhales. “That’s not what I meant. I’m being serious.” He heads back into the living room, gesturing for her to follow. “We don’t have to be friends, and I don’t really expect us to be, but... I at least want to tell you that I could never hate you.”

...oh.

“I do like you.” He sits down on their couch, and she joins him. “In... smaller doses, admittedly, but I wouldn’t have tried to make this work for so long if I didn’t like being around you, Mary. We wouldn’t have gotten married to begin with.”

She’s picking the twins’ toys off the floor, just to do something with her hands, but her uncharacteristic silence shows Joseph she’s listening. She feels she _ should _ say something, but nothing comes out. 

There’s a long pause as Joseph waits for her to say her piece, and when it doesn’t come, he continues. “You’re a good person. I know you wouldn’t have acted the way you have if it wasn’t for my...” A frown comes on his face as he struggles with not only finding the words, but admitting them at all. He gestures in the vague direction of their bedroom. “...you know.”

Suddenly, the stuffed spider Christie’s left on the floor is the most fascinating thing in the world, and Mary stares into its beady eyes rather than facing her ex-husband. “You don’t have to defend me.” She finally says, twisting the plush’s leg around her finger. “We both sucked.”

She bites back the overwhelming urge to tack on a “you sucked more”. Mary’s never been able to read a room, but even she gets that wouldn’t be a great idea. 

Joseph laughs lightly, but she’s heard that laugh enough times to tell how fake it is. “Honest as ever.” It vanishes just as quickly as it comes, and he leans forward on the couch, hands clasped. “I just don’t want you to think this was all a waste. We may not be husband and wife, but... we’re still the kids’ parents, and...”

He shakes his head. “...I don’t want to kick you out of their life. I know they love you, and you love them. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Mary is silent, mulling over all of this. The plush’s leg pops off, and she stares wide-eyed and tries to reattach it as inconspicuously as possible. She’s not as subtle as she thinks she is, and by the laugh he tries and fails to hide when he looks over, neither is Joseph. Finally, she gives in, dropping the momentary distraction onto the floor to return to the conversation. “...thanks, I guess.”

“I _ mean _ it, Mary.” She can sense the emotion in his voice, and _ God _ why is he so _ nice. _ “They love you more than you think. You’re their Mom. Not Skye, or anybody else. You.”

“Yeah.” She murmurs, already tired. Her mind continues to drift back to everything Joseph’s ever done to wrong her, and it makes how genuine he sounds now hard to stomach. Why can’t he just be... a consistent kind of horrible? Why does he have to be so nice despite what he does, so _ easy _ to love? 

He smiles sadly. “I just think it’s important you know that. You might not want to be, but...” An arm reaches around Mary’s shoulder, and she doesn’t pull away. “...you’re always welcome here.”

“Thanks.” She traces circles along her thigh, the smooth texture of her skirt soothing her racing mind. There’s a lot she wants to say, and a lot she _ should _ say, but none of it feels appropriate. “I—...” She cuts herself off, but can feel Joseph’s eyes on her, and so reluctantly continues. “I really... do like it here.”

“I’m glad.” Joseph leans in and kisses Mary’s cheek — no internalized disgust, no forced love, just a friendly gesture. “But you deserve better than this little city, too. You deserve to move on. Be happy.”

She does. She knows she does, but it’s impossible to picture. She can hardly imagine a life without the small-city-love that Maple Bay has — at least not a happy one. She thinks about her reputation constantly, knowing how far more people take Joseph’s side than hers, but even then... this place has a form of community she hasn’t seen anywhere else. She wouldn’t call them her friends, sure, but her and Joseph’s neighbors are some of the nicest people she knows. It’s finally occurring to her how much she’s taken that for granted, in favor of wallowing. Jesus Christ.

There’s a long silence as Mary mulls over everything and idly fidgets, none of her thoughts coming to fruition — eventually, Joseph pulls away from her and stands, adjusting his cardigan. “You can go, now. Still waiting on that hello from Rob.” 

Mary makes a disgusted noise. “Don’t think he’d like that.” She gets up and brushes herself off. “You two are like oil and water.” 

“So were Skye and I. Opposites attract, you know. _ Wink _.” Every time he says that she wants to die more. The subtle advocacy for attraction between him and Robert isn’t inspiring either — the two’s situation is one she can never fully understand, even hearing both parts of the story. 

“Don’t even know what you see in that guy.” She mumbles, brushing off that part of the conversation in favor of bullying Skye. Her and Joseph may be on speaking terms, but his new partner is another story.

The man laughs lightly, staring off into some point beyond Mary, likely reminiscing. “He’s an acquired taste.”

“More like rotten leftovers, but sure.”

“He’s rough around the edges, but he really does care. He was only unfortunate enough to fall for someone who’s spoken for, and caused a bit of trouble because he wasn’t aware of the consequences.” Even Joseph can tell this is an understatement, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck as he continues. “He isn’t evil, only... damaged, and it changes how he thinks, but he has good in him as we all do.”

Mary takes notice of the odd wording, but Joseph answers her question for her when he adds with an insinuating smile, “Doesn’t that sound like someone you love, too?”

——

At Jim & Kim’s that night, though she’s not really sure what part of the conversation with Joseph awakened it, Mary comes in with a rare zest. (read: the realization after several months that she’s technically ‘back on the market’, and now has legal permission to uncomfortably hit on anyone she pleases. Not out of any desire to date, just because it’s a very fun thing to do and now she doesn’t have to feel shame for it.)

It’s not love, nor lust. Mainly schadenfreude. And greed — why pay for drinks when you can bum them off of sad weirdos? She doesn’t feel anything for these people, just as they don’t feel anything for her (aside from pity). They don’t love her, they never will, and she doesn’t invite them to. 

Whatever love is, though, she’s not sure she wants to feel that, either. Love is clingy, uncomfortable, and all take with little to no give — she wanted to love Joseph, Joseph wanted to love her, everyone around them wanted them to love each other, and all that did was drive both of them insane being stuck around the other. She just wants to be free for a while, embrace not having her ex-husband breathing down her back for once. 

She tells herself she’ll never be as stupid as she was as a younger woman — trying to make Joseph happy even as his eyes continued to wander, telling herself that it would all be worth it if she just tried a _ little _ bit harder. She’d wasted her life away trying to please someone who simply wasn’t compatible with her, and she wasn’t going to go through that again. Not ever. 

Joseph said she loved Robert, and that’s just as laughable a concept as it was before she became single. She doesn’t see him in any way but platonic, and though sometimes she does think that’s not strong enough a word for someone as close as he is, she’s confident it’s not love.

Love hurts, love always crashes and burns, and when it doesn’t it simply pathetically flickers out. It’s a horrible, shameful construct that causes more harm than good — in situations like her, Joseph, and Skye, every happy couple leaves someone else shoved aside and detested (if not her, then Skye). It complicates things. It’s an ugly emotion that leaves one questioning everything they know.

She catches Robert watching her from across the bar as she chats up a woman far too drunk for drinking far too little, and he gives her an amused grin. She winks back.

Love hurts, but this doesn’t. 

——

True to Joseph’s words, the Christiansen family activities haven’t stopped. They’re actually kind of enjoyable for Mary now — distance makes the heart grow fonder, or something like that. 

She hasn’t forgiven Joseph, and likely never will, but while she doesn’t see herself actively seeking him out, he’s not horrible to be around. Wrangling the kids with him as they make a mess of the yacht isn’t her idea of fun, but it’s still better than the incessant fighting. He’s not that bad to talk to — especially now that they can say whatever they please without the fear of a real argument breaking out. He wants to be on friendly terms (even asking once about joining her and Robert one Saturday night, which she declines for many reasons) but she’s not sure she‘s ready for that. There’s far too much awful context for them to simply pretend nothing happened. She can tell he’s far happier than he was, and she does _ want _ to move on, but can never shake the bitterness over their... everything. 

At the very least, their visits are less about them and more about the kids, so she never has room to think about it for long. 

Chris’ birthday comes and passes. Children’s birthdays are always big occasions around the neighborhood, with just how many families there are around, but Mary appreciates that it’s more of a quiet affair for her eldest. He isn’t good with large events, or his neighbors in general, and Mary finds herself having to remind Joseph of this more often than she’d anticipated for having ten — now eleven — years of birthday party experience. 

It’s happy, though, and for all she despises Skye, he really does care about Joseph’s children. The video game he buys Chris actually gets a smile out of the boy. The weighted blanket Mary gets him doesn’t, but as soon as it’s out of the packaging, he’s wandering around with it more often than not.

She remembers that she won’t be living in Maple Bay anymore by the time the twins and Crish’s birthdays come around, and while it gives her an odd feeling, it’s something she ultimately thinks she’s prepared for. Joseph continues to assure her that he’s always happy to help, and she knows Robert and Damien are, so even if it’s scary in the moment, it probably won’t be forever.

And if it is, she can blame it on those three. 

——

Mary has seen Robert nearly every other day since the divorce — that odd week aside — and it’s nothing new, given they’re next door neighbors, but it’s always a reassurance. Whether he’s dropping by unannounced to drag her out of the house on a monster hunting expedition, sitting with her and Damien on his couch every Friday night to watch some obscure old film, or simply talking about his week with her at Jim & Kim’s, she appreciates his presence. She knows fully that she never would have survived her marriage, much less her _ divorce _, without him. 

It’s not something she thinks on often, not wanting to make her friend uncomfortable, but she recalls his feelings for her. It’s easy to forget, as all it changed between them was the opening to make jokes about him having bad taste, but sometimes she remembers when he holds her in support, or when a conversation gets particularly serious and he reminds her she’s cared about. 

While Mary knows it’s not strictly because he likes her — those things have been a part of their friendship forever — she can’t help but view them in a different context. His hugs are softer and longer, and though she pretends not to notice, he really does look at her a _ lot _. His behavior has certainly changed, but she’s not complaining. The attention is flattering, and she does like being cuddly with him.

She can tell Robert’s life is becoming better, between how he’s started to talk about Val again, how he’s started cleaning himself more than once a week, and how he manages to leave his alcohol untouched when they talk. At first, she feared his feelings were just a form of pity — or worse, self-harm — but even as his life changes as the months go by, the way he looks at her and talks about her doesn’t.

He agrees to help her move into her new place — a tinier house in her hometown, not too far a drive from Maple Bay. Accounting for the kids’ visits, which Joseph and Mary agreed would be every other weekend, there’s a guest bedroom, but otherwise the place is relatively small. Joseph expresses concern, but Mary insists that she really doesn’t need a house as big as their last one when it’s just her. She couldn’t afford that even if she _ wanted _ to — the Christiansens’ wealth was all Joseph’s.

There’s no greater test of friendship than letting them help you move in someplace. That’s one of the few hurdles her and Robert haven’t jumped yet — they’ve gone through hospital visits, relationship issues, having children, and family problems. Now all they need is a death in the family and another wedding. 

At the very least, there’s kitchen appliances and a couch already there. She doesn’t know if she could handle having to drag a couch in with Robert. There’s a test of friendship, and then there’s a way to kill it in one shot. 

“...aw.”

Mary looks up from the chairs she’s carrying in to find Robert holding up a small photograph. She rolls her eyes, leaning over to smack him on the arm. 

“Quit snooping.” 

She gets a view of the photograph over his shoulder — seeing it, she remembers its contents, though it’s faded and old. There she is, age... twenty? Twenty two? Certainly much younger, but regardless, it’s her and Joseph out on a motorboat, smiling at something off-camera. Her arm is around him, fingers threaded through the collar of his jacket. Her hair is straight, and she wears a neatly pressed brown blazer and white button-up shirt — Joseph, on the other hand, is barely recognizable. There’s the beard, for one, and the cigarette, and the sailor’s cap he would only ever wear today to joke and reminisce. 

She was the clean-cut prep of the two once, believe it or not. Just some good spoiled Christian girl looking for adventure, for some bad boy to marry and piss off the WASP-y Weimanns, and look where that got her. She frowns and steps back, letting Robert continue to look through the photos.

“I think it’s nice.” He laughs lowly, in that way that tells her she’s about to hear something terrible. He holds up the photograph, looking from it to Mary. “Josie used to be a heartthrob, huh?” There it is. 

Mary makes a disgusted noise, moving back over to pluck the photo from his hand. “I’m beginning to think Marilyn was a stroke of good luck and you’ve never been able to make decent romantic decisions since.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short.” There’s a moment of rummaging, and out comes another faded photo of the younger couple. Joseph and Mary are huddled in the front seat of her parents’ car, sharing a cigarette as she leans against his chest, surrounded by smoke in a way she’s sure she thought looked artistic at the time but now just looks really uncomfortable to be in a locked car with. “These are great blackmail material. You were a couple of bad kids, huh?”

“_ Alright _.” Feeling shame for once, Mary takes the whole memento box from Robert’s hands. “I think I’ll handle the photos from here.”

——

It’s not perfect. There’s chairs but no tables, the television hasn’t been set up, the bed was going to be a whole other beast, but by seven o’clock, Mary’s out of energy. Dusk is breaking, and night would soon after, but it’s been a day of more hard labor than she’s used to. As Robert steps out to smoke, she returns Joseph and Damien’s texts about how moving’s been going. Not as much progress as she’d like, but it’s not like she has anywhere to be.

Leaning on the couch, she wiggles her remaining shoe off. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening — the divorce has been finalized for seven months now, and yet she still catches herself saying Mary _ Christiansen _ , or my _ husband _... the idea of no longer being together is still hard to fathom sometimes, much less the realization that she’s truly free. 

She’s officially Mary Weimann again, a single woman living alone. No unhappy marriage, no loud family, or annoying parents or overbearing neighbors. Just her. (And the neighbors she actually likes, but still.)

She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have, as it’s night when she opens her eyes again. More notably, however, there’s a weight on her back, and a pair of arms she knows all too well wrapped around her. She could tell by the faint smell of whiskey and nature — even as he was sobering up, he always did smell of alcohol — that he was there, even before feeling him on her. 

Turning over to face him, Robert’s still awake, at least partially. He rubs a hand over his eyes, grumbling something before clearing his throat and repeating himself. “...mornin’.”

“It’s...” She squints at the clock, not completely awake either. “...twelve.” Reading numbers is more effort than she’s aware enough to put in, and she leans against Robert again to try and fall back asleep. She’d think twice, normally, but she’s comfortable with him. He’s warm, and makes her feel safe.

“Still morning.” Robert mumbles, moving his hand back around her. “...sorry for this, couldn’t find the blankets...”

Even in her mostly asleep state, Mary can tell that’s the most blatant lie he’s told, but she can’t bring herself to care save for a sleepy laugh and murmur of “‘s bullshit.” She feels him chuckle, keeping her from dozing off as her eyelids grow heavy.

“Don’t mind, do you?”

Her eyes slowly open again, and she finally registers how intimate this is. Robert and her have cuddled in the past, but never as alone as they are now, with the lights off and nobody they knew around for miles. It’s different from anything they’d done before. Not wrong, just... different.

She lazily reaches a hand up to Robert’s face, running a hand through his graying hair, lightly caressing the stubble on his angular face. He was cleaning up more, trimming, but she had a feeling his facial hair wouldn’t be going anywhere. She notices the various scars and slashes across his skin, long healed so that they wouldn’t be visible unless someone was this close, and the dark circles under his eyes that were so much worse seven months ago. She’d jokingly complained before about how ragged he was, but now, all she can think of is how awkward and damaged they both are, and yet how much they’d grown.

Robert had been the center of her life for those seven months, the one to fill that void in her heart. She wouldn’t have made it through any of this alone. It was always his support that brought her back to the land of the living. He was always her shoulder to cry on, from the very beginning. 

By the time Joseph began to fall for Skye, Mary convinced herself she would never get a happy ending — that history would continue to repeat itself. They’d continue to succumb to their respective vices, he would continue to cheat and she would continue to treat him like trash, but they would never break apart, as much as they both knew that was the ideal. It would just keep happening: Joseph would find someone else, they’d fight for days and weeks and months, but ultimately be too cowardly to cut the knot. They had to hold up the image of a happy marriage that nobody who looked at them together for more than ten seconds would believe. It would continue until either Joseph died in a freak boating accident or she died of liver failure. 

But then it happened. Finally, finally, they divorced, and Mary didn’t know what to do. She never expected it to happen, as much as she wanted it to, and things were actually... okay. Better than okay. She was happy. She still didn’t think she deserved it, but she was actually truly happy for the first time in twenty years. 

And it was all because of Robert. 

For that moment, she allows herself to love again, fully and without fear. She wraps her arms around the friend who saved her life, her best friend who she _ loves _, and tilts her head forward to kiss him. It’s gentle at first, to confirm consent, but she feels he wouldn’t say no to her after yearning for so long. Her hands move to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair as he returns the motion, scarred and calloused hands cupping her face.

She feels him pull her closer still, and for a moment, her tired brain wonders if this is some half-awake dream and _ God _ she hopes it isn’t. The lack of breath confirms this, and finally she puts her hands down to pull away. 

The look on Robert’s face can only be described as starstruck. One hand still rests on her cheek, and even in the low light, his tired eyes are the happiest she’s ever seen them. Despite his smile, his voice stumbles as he tries to act casual. 

“Is... is that a no?”

Mary can only laugh, unable to get anything else out as she shakes her head, still holding her friend. ...boyfriend? Ew. That was a really ugly word. No wonder she wasn’t looking forward to dating again. Hopefully returning to their previous cuddling position answers his question.

“Sure took you long enough.” He adds. “Would’ve saved me a lot of weird guilty dreams if you did that to begin with.”

“Shut up, I was _ damaged _ .” She finally manages to respond, not at all serious. She’s just... happy. Happy to be in the arms of someone who loves her so much. Someone _ she _ loves so much. “Yearning builds character, Rob. You started showering because of me.” 

“I started showering because of Val.”

Mary attempts to give him her usual stink face, but can’t hide her joy. “You keep telling yourself that.” Her hand slides up his body, stopping at his jawbone. In case there was any doubt, she kisses him again, cherishing the way he melts into her as she smiles against him. “You know you love me.”

“I do, and you’re insufferable.” Despite his words, he leans his head against her. She really didn’t expect him to be this affectionate, but... she didn’t expect she would be either. 

“I am.” She admits, perhaps a little too proudly. “But I really do love you.” With a happy sigh, she nuzzles against him. “Not a trick or anything.” 

“Didn’t think it was before you said that, but alright.” He rolls his eyes, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I love you, too.”

Mary felt there wasn’t much more to be said there. She looks over her home, still only halfway unpacked. Whether with her parents or Joseph, she always had someone staring her down to make sure she was doing everything _ correctly _. Now, though, she’s independent, and the thought is as terrifying as it is exciting. 

And that’s barely getting into what’s blooming with Robert. Love is a poison — Mary said that herself the night he told her everything, and yet here she is, falling in love again. Feeling those dumb butterflies once more, hoping and praying that this would be different from last time. 

They both fall asleep eventually, and though she knows there’s no way he ever would, she hopes he doesn’t forget this when they wake up again. They have a lot to talk about, and more unpacking to do, but for now, all that matters is holding each other.

Uneasy about everything still, Mary’s fear of the future hasn’t waned, and she doesn’t know where she’s going.

But she feels that as long as she ends up with Robert, it’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s On The Rocks! Hopefully it was enjoyable, both for my first DDADDS fic and for my first attempt at romance, lol. I just like these two and felt the ship tag needed stuff other than infidelity and Rosemary. 
> 
> I feel like I ended this nicely, but as you can tell a ton of this fic is based on headcanon, so maybe I could expand on some of those, or something with Skye and Joseph if people have interest in that. I don’t know! I don’t even know if anyone actually read this save for Nua (thank u <3) but I appreciate every hit regardless!
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3 🍷🔪


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